The Art of Retaliation Read online

  Mara had no time to respond feeling herself being cruelly pulled from his arms and enfolded in the arms of her anxious brother. She hugged him and assured his persistent questions that she was fine.

  “So you are Stephane Garreau, the man who kidnapped my sister,’ Peter said with contempt pulling his sister closer.

  Stephant met his steely eye with the nerve and dignity of a man forced to face an awful truth.

  “Yes, I am,” he told Peter firmly.

  Peter signalled to the female police detective who appeared to be leading the operation.

  “Sgt Marsaud, this is the man who kidnapped my sister. I want him arrested.”

  Stephane glanced at Mara.

  “I just want to be with you. Forgive me,” he said quietly. “It is up to you, Mara to decide whether or not I should be arrested.”

  Peter Logan’s handsome dark features creased with annoyance but he agreed.

  “It is up to you, Mara. He may have helped you here but he did hold you hostage.”

  Mara could see Stephane’s powerful frame tighten ready to take any blow that she delivered and nobly take responsibility to protect his family. It was one of his many qualities she admired most but he needed a lesson. She thought hard.

  “Yes, please arrest him,” she told Sgt Marsaud with a tremor in her voice.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “That is quite a story,” Sgt Marsaud said sitting back in her chair.

  Mara sat huddled against Peter. Although it was warm outside she was beginning to feel cold and unwell. She desperately wanted to get out of the dingy office and go home but she knew she couldn’t leave with out sorting what she wanted done with Stephane.

  “So I am willing to forget that the French police failed to investigate the kidnapping of myself and Maxine Villenueve if you will keep Stephane Garreau in prison for a night. He is to have no contact with his lawyer and a full press black out,” Mara demanded authoritatively.

  “I can’t do that. I can’t bend the law to meet your needs,” the Sgt frowned.

  “Why not? You obliged Monsieur Garreau.”

  Peter looked at his sister catching her drift.

  “What Mara is trying to tell you is that she knows that Monsieur Garreau is a respected and shall we say wealthy figure in your community and it would be a shame to lose him to a scandal. I think you could oblige her and in return the French and British press will not get to hear about this sordid little affair and your failure. It’s easier this way, don’t you think?’ he smiled. “On this occasion I think you can bend the law for one night.”

  There was a heavy pause.

  “All right. I understand where you are coming from but why don’t you want to press full charges anyway?”

  “I have my reasons. Can I see him before I go?”

  “Yes if you really want to.”

  “Mara, I don’t think it’s wise and I want to get you checked over,” Peter was impatient.

  “I know I won’t be a minute.”

  She was quickly led down the corridor to the cells.

  The billionaire was prowling around his barred cell like a caged animal. He stood still as she approached.

  “Mara, I didn’t expect to see you,” he said slowly his blue yes lighting up at her presence. “You look terrible.”

  Her eyes travelled to his shirt collar. It was open where they had taken away his tie and his belt was missing. For once he looked disheveled.

  “How the mighty have fallen,” she said bitterly. “What does it feel like to be imprisoned with your life and your career on the line? It hurts doesn’t it? You might know how I felt now.”

  “This is what it’s all about isn’t it? You want me to suffer like you did. Well I’ve got news for you I am,” he yelled unable to control his temper.

  “Well good luck, Stephane. You are going to need it. What are your family and your society friends going to think now?”

  He reached out between the bars and caught her wrist pulling her towards them.

  “I don’t give a damn about what they think. I don’t care what anyone thinks but you. I am suffering because I can’t be with you. We had something going and now you are going to throw it all away. Don’t do this. You don’t need to. I’ve suffered with guilt since the day I took you away from that apartment.”

  His grip was tightening.

  “Don’t you think I have had enough of being pushed around?” she said looking down at his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist. “Let go.”

  “Not until you tell me that you are going to get me out of here and let me make all of this up to you.”

  She began to cry much to her anger.

  Stephane relaxed his grip in response.

  “I love you, Mara.”

  She looked at him her face full of confusion.

  “I can’t deal with all of this right now. I’m sorry,” she snatched her arm away and bolted from the cells.

  Stephane sat back down on the bunk holding his head in his hands. He had never told any woman that he had loved them before and now he was going to loose her.

  “Peter, can we go now I don’t feel so good,” she said walking back into the room.

  Peter put his arm around his sister noticing that she had been crying and nodded. He took her to Maxine’s where they would spend the night and return home in the morning after an arranged meeting with Matisse, his lawyers and the French police at her insistence.

  “What is your plan concerning Stephane? What are you doing asking them to keep him in prison but not pressing charges?” Maxine asked sitting on the side of Mara’s bed. She looked uneasy.

  “I suppose I just want him to suffer a bit. I want him to feel how I did.”

  “But I thought you cared for him.”

  “So he’s just supposed to get away with it,” she said sitting up her voice rising slightly.

  “No calm down. I was just a bit surprised. You know I would have him charged. What happens when he gets out?”

  “He gets out and I will have gone home, end of story.”

  Maxine shook her head making no effort to hide her disbelief.

  “I don’t think he will let what has happened between the both of you drop and I don’t think you will want him to.”

  Mara turned away trying to hide tears and Maxine hugged her. Forgetting the billionaire would be harder than she thought.

  The following afternoon her business with Raymond Matisse was concluded and both the French and English police were provided with the necessary evidence for Abdul’s demise. Mara got out of a limousine and followed Peter across the tarmac towards the private jet that Raymond Matisse had insisted she use. She heaved a sigh of relief, glad to be finally going home and smiled up at the steward waiting to welcome them aboard.

  “Who the hell is that?” Peter said turning round as another Mercedes drove at speed towards the plane and parked next to their own.

  Mara held her breath. Stephane quickly got out of the back of the car and stood looking up at her.

  “I’ll wait for you inside,” Peter said tactfully and walked up into the plane.

  Despite her apprehension she found herself walking back down the steps towards him. He was dressed as she’d left him in the prison.

  “When did you get out?” she asked not knowing quite what to say.

  “When you told them that I could be. That was quite clever Mara, almost as devious as me. Thanks for not involving the press.”

  The mischievous grin was there on his lips again making her warm to him. He moved closer.

  “I think I’ve been punished enough, Mara. Don’t leave.”

  His hand reached up and held her face. She shut her eyes and leaned towards it.

  “I have to leave. I have a lot to sort out,” she replied opening her eyes.

  “What about us? Are you just going to forget everything?”

  “Too much has happened. Do you expect me to forget everything?”

  He dropped his hand.
/>   “No but we could try and make a go of things now it’s all over.”

  There was a depression in his voice that she found hard to resist. He put his arms around her body that remained cold and stiff, indifferent to his warmth.

  “I can’t, I can’t forget everything like you can?”

  “Do you love me?”

  She paused, hesitating.

  “Yes I do but it’s not enough. I need to be able to trust you, rely on you.”

  “You know you can. Don’t leave me,” he said holding her at arms length.

  He was finding this open show of feeling difficult but was eager to show his remorse and love.

  “No, I’m sorry, I must go. Goodbye, Stephane. It would never work.”

  “We could try.”

  Mara broke away from him. He said no more and watched her turn and run up the steps of the plane. She didn’t look back. The billionaire turned and leaned against the top of the car feeling the full weight of her rejection. He watched the plane make its way to the end of the runway increasing its speed until it rose in the air and glided over the airport.

  A week later Mara sat in her office trying to get her head around a partnership agreement she had been drafting and threw it down defeated. Since returning she had found it difficult to concentrate on anything. Her mind kept running over the events like some action replay.

  Mara turned her chair around to face the window behind her and looked out over St Paul’s cathedral. She was regretting leaving Stephane. It had been the right thing to do but she missed his love and now there was a new problem. Mara smoothed her hand over her stomach wondering how long it would be before her pregnant stomach would start showing. She would have to tell him soon. Every time she tried to pull away from Stephane there was always something or now someone forcing her back to him. Mara loved him and it had taken the space in London to realize just how much. But now the bond between them would only be platonic.

  She had lost Stephane through foolish pride. Mara turned back around and stood up from her desk to make her way outside to where her secretary sat.

  “Janice, I didn’t ask you were there any messages for me when I was on lunch?”

  The woman who was not much older than Mara looked at her with surprise.

  “No you know I would have told you straight away,” she said, the hurt evident in her voice.

  “I’m sorry, I just hoped . . . never mind. Have you got that draft partnership agreement for Lambton’s typed up yet?”

  “Yes, here it is. Who’s that?”

  She watched Mara stand up from leaning over her desk, her face brightening before quickly dipping her head.

  “That’s him isn’t it?” her secretary asked excitedly.

  Mara kept her head down and nodded grinning wildly at the woman.

  The billionaire strode into the office with the same confident air he had when they first met. He was dressed in yet another immaculate dark suit that made him stand out and above all of the other men in the office. Every female turned her head to view him as he passed.

  “Hold all my calls. I’m not to be disturbed for anything,” she whispered, careful not to look up so he would pick her out straight away. This was a reunion she wanted to conduct in private.

  “Don’t worry. Nobody will get through that door. Good luck.”

  Mara rushed back to her office pretending she hadn’t seen him and sat down.

  Stephane brushed off Mara’s secretary’s attempts to stall for time and walked into her office slamming the door shut.

  Mara started to stand up but before she could complete the action he was pushing her back down in the high black leather chair. He leaned over her, his hands resting on the arms of the chair barring any means of escape. There were no pleasantries, no explanations for his sudden arrival. She sank into her chair intimidated by his posture and the coolness in his eyes.

  “I’ve played your little game, Mara. I am here. It’s just what you wanted isn’t it? You wanted me to run over here after you rejected me just to show me that you won’t be controlled?”

  He watched the surprise show in her eyes confirming what he suspected.

  “Well it worked, didn’t it? You’ve come,’ she said haughtily trying to regain some balance.

  “Right then you have a choice, you either marry me and come back to Paris or I kidnap you again and take you back and make you marry me.”

  She stared up at him not knowing whether to cry or smile.

  “Well I don’t have much of a choice then do I?” she laughed.

  “No you don’t. And as I told you like it or not I am in charge.”

  He smiled and laughed with her pulling her up in his arms.

  “So you agree to leave this all behind. I think we could find you a job in the company, may be in the legal department” he teased.

  “No I will do well enough as the partner in charge of the firm’s French office, Marcus is retiring and Raymond Matisse wants me to handle all of his legal work from now on.”

  “Well done,” he said as though he justly expected it.

  “Your sister?” she was anxious.

  “She’s doing really well, the operation was a success.”

  “That’s good,’ she said with relief. ‘I’ve really missed you” she rested her head on his shoulder. “Don’t let me leave you again.”

  Stephane cupped her face and kissed her tenderly.

  “Never again.”

  “There is something I have to tell you. I only found out last night.”

  Her voice trembled as she lowered her eyes to her stomach. Stephane followed them. His eyes widened with surprise. Gently he reached out his hand and cupped her stomach. His smile beamed at her.

  “I’m pregnant,” she confirmed.

  “I love you,” he told her stroking her stomach capturing her lips against his. “I can’t wait to raise a family with you. This will be the first of many children,” he grinned. Now it was her turn to widen her eyes with surprise.

  “Yes, Sir,” she smiled loving the idea.

  Stephane swung an arm under her legs and carried her to the door. He bent down to lock it and then lowered her to the corner of her desk. Mara giggled watching him loosen the buttons of her jacket and then the buttons on her blouse and delve into the cup that held a breast, groaning that he had been away from her body for too long.

  ‘You and I future Countess of Albain have a lot of catching up to do,’ he murmured tipping her head back to take her lips.